(gentle music) (dramatic music) (knocking) - [Man] Yes?

- Good morning.

- Good morning.

- Welcome home.

- Well, you're up early.

Where's Margaret?

- She didn't come.

How was the trip?

- Waste of time.

Got off the ship at Naples.

Should be in Paris by now.

- Why didn't you follow him?

- Got in mind about Margeret.

There's been no mail, not even a postcard.

- How is she?

- She's taken off.

Left you for some Bloomsbury type.

I don't even know his name.

(somber music) - [Narrator] In 1906, Reilly had been sent to Italy to intercept William Knox Darcy, an Australian mining engineer who was returning from Persia.

Darcy had discovered vast deposits of oil in the Persian basin, and Reilly's task was to persuade him to sell his concession to the British.

This was a matter of some urgency, for the Royal Navy, with its new oil-fired warships, was anxious to obtain a reliable source of fuel.

Persia seemed the ideal solution.

But before Reilly had a chance to talk to Darcy in Naples, the oil man disappeared.

- See Naples and die.

Is that what's happened to Darcy?

- No, I think he's in Paris.

- Why aren't you in Paris?

- Hasn't Fothergill told you?

Margaret's disappeared with another man.

- There's no need to advertise your misfortune, my dear chap.

Nobody takes kindly to a cuckhold.

- I shall need time to find her.

- Reilly, my dear fellow, you're behaving like an outraged Latin.

Your talents would be better employed in pursuit of our friend Darcy.

- Even if I did find him, there's no guarantee I could talk him round.

- But that's not what you said six weeks ago.

- Six weeks ago he was on a boat to England, today he's in Paris talking to bankers.

Now if you want to be serious about this you're going to have to find some money.

- How much?

- One million.

- Pounds?

- With guarantees for another four.

- Where would I raise that kind of money?

- The city, the banks, other royal companies.

Until we do so, there's not much point in me going to Paris.

- Your wife's there, you know, with this Bloomsbury type.

with this Bloomsbury type.

- [Waiter] Would you like to order, sir?

- Soup and the roast beef.

- The roast beef rare with a salad.

- Do you mean raw vegetables?

- They're raw vegetables soaked in oils, the chef knows how to do it.

- Yes sir.

- They don't understand this foreign muck here.

And sprouts and roast potatoes for me.

Fothergill?

- Ditto.

- The same for them.

And you might server the wine, waiter.

- How long have you known this about Margaret?

- [Cummings] Three weeks.

- And why didn't you contact me in Naples?

- I didn't want to put you off your stroke, old boy.

- You've known about this for three weeks and yet you didn't notify me.

- Cummings is right.

This oil business is very important.

- I give a damn about your oil.

(sighs) - All right.

Basil Zaharov has a bureau in Paris run by a man named Widdemeyer.

I will employ Widdemeyer to find Darcy and Margaret in that order.

But with the proviso that when Darcy is found, you will do all you can to persuade him not to sign with the French until at least he has spoken with us.

- And when Margaret is found, what would you like me to do about her?

- Your private life is your own affair.

Is that not so, Fothergill?

- It won't be if he shoots her.

- I just don't want it to interfere in any way with this very delicate matter of the oil.

Is that understood?

- [Reilly] How did Cummings know Margaret was in Paris?

- [Fothergill] From your bank.

She sold your house, did you know that?

- No I did not.

Is there anything else you might have omitted to tell me?

Because if so, now is the time to do it.

- No.

Except no woman's worth it.

- Worth what?

- The guillotine.

Contrary to public belief, crime passional is a capital offense in France.

- Thank you, Fothergill, for that comforting thought.

- [Narrator] Reilly made no secret of his arrival in Paris, booking in at an hotel under his own name.

- [Clerk] Thank you, sir.

(rings bell) - [Narrator] He was still unsure how to deal with Margaret once he had found her, but he was determined to settle the matter before he tackled Darcy.

(baby crying) What Reilly had neglected to tell Cummings was that while he was in Naples trying to find Darcy, two attempts had been made on his life.

So he had come to the conclusion that whoever was talking to the Australian was prepared to go to great lengths to protect him, and themselves.

(knocking) - Widdemeyer?

- Up here.

(pigeons cooing) - Don't pry, Mr. Reilly.

- Cummings sent you a letter, have you opened it?

- No.

First your wife.

She was staying in an hotel in Mont Panassa until a week ago, then she left.

- Was she alone?

- No.

She was accompanied by an Englishman, described as being of a depraved nature.

They left at the request of the management.

There was some talk of her going to Munich.

- Have you a man in Munich?

- There's a friend I can put you in touch with.

- Give me his address.

- I don't want to presume on our good friendship, but all this costs money.

- You'll be paid the moment you locate Darcy.

- That will not be so easy.

Here, however, is some information for which I will not charge.

Your half sister's in Paris.

- Anna?

- Yes.

Studying piano at the academy.

You should hear her play, she's good I'm told.

- Anna thinks I'm dead, it's best left that way.

- You see, I give you something for nothing and you refuse it.

- Is that her photograph?

- Yes.

Taken last spring.

(light music) - May I keep this?

- If you wish.

Here's the name of my friend in Munich.

I'll contact him just to see whether your journey is absolutely necessary.

Darcy I'm told is with the Rothschilds.

- Rothschilds?

- Yes.

- And where do the French fit into this?

- I'm quite happy to say the Rothschilds pick up the option.

They don't want to be seen as interfering in what the British consider their territory.

But they're behind the whole thing.

- Have they agreed terms?

- Not that I'm aware of.

I'm told Darcy needs five billion francs.

That's a lot of money.

(church bell ringing) (knocking) - Come in.

Thank you.

- Thank you, monsieur.

- [Reilly] Dear Reilly, I would be grateful if you would contact Mr. Smalls of the embassy so that arrangements can be made to meet Cummings, who is prepared to put behind him the the prejudices of a lifetime to come to Paris.

He is bringing the money.

Yours I, Fothergill.

- Good morning, sir.

- Morning.

Can you get me this number?

(phone ringing) - Widdemeyer.

- [Reilly] Reilly here.

- I was right about Munich.

Your wife is at the Astoria sampling the waters.

Suitably distilled.

- With regard to my sister.

- Your half sister.

- You said she was involved in an inquiry.

Is she in any danger?

- You know I can't give you that kind of information.

- Where can I find her?

- At (speaking foreign language).

(light music) (bicycle bell rings) (playing piano) (children laughing) - It's too quick, it's too fast, it's too heavy.

It's just too much.

You're making that the climax of the piece, this isn't the climax, the climax is at the end.

Now, calm.

Just take it once again from the beginning, and very steady.

Don't forget.

(slams keys) (church bells ringing) (light music) - What do you mean he's with the Rothschilds?

- Widdemeyer says they've got him tucked away somewhere.

- Under lock and key?

- Well not necessarily, Darcy will be as anxious to lay low as they will.

- Do you mean he's trying to avoid his fellow Britons by making this shoddy arrangement with the French?

- The British have done nothing to Darcy up to now.

All he can expect on past experience is to be bombarded with cheap promises and patriotism.

- We have always encouraged his efforts.

- The man has oil wells to maintain.

His men have been working 110 degrees of heat up mountains surrounded by hostile tribesmen.

He's going bankrupt, he needs money.

- We have brought the money.

- [Reilly] It's not enough.

- Not enough?

We have just crossed the English Channel with a quarter of a million pounds sterling and he tells us its not enough.

- We're up against the richest men in Europe.

They spend that on a dinner service.

- The fact is that's all we could raise.

- What about the city?

- The city says there's no future in oil.

- The government?

- [Cummings] Full of colons.

- And what about the banks?

- They display a short-sightedness which borders on treason.

- However.

Nothing ventured, nothing win.

Fischer, Churchill, and a few other sparks are putting together a company, but they're not quite there yet.

That's why it's absolutely essential to find Darcy and to stall him.

- Or shoot him.

- Might be cheaper to shoot him.

- In the long run, you're going to need the oil.

- At least it'd stop the damn French getting at it.

- I have no intention of shooting Darcy.

- Of course, if he'd slept with your wife that would've been different.

- That was uncalled for, Cummings.

- It's just that his morality is so cockeyed.

If it came to losing half the empire, butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

But if somebody hops into bed with his wife, he comes over all outraged Latin.

- I must apologize for him.

He's quite upset.

- No, he's right.

- We will attempt in London to put your views to the others.

In the meantime I would be grateful if you did not leave Paris.

Not even for Munich.

Do I make myself clear?

- He's not at Fillier.

- You're sure?

- Can't be that sure, it's a big place.

Nobody but Rothschild could build it.

You know an underground railway connects the kitchen with the dining hall.

- So where else would he stay?

- I don't know.

You can hide a Latin in Paris, or any denomination of Slav, but a six-foot Australian mining engineer, that's difficult.

- What about the university?

- Ah.

There I can't help you.

My contacts stop at a certain level.

It has something to do with a stratum of honesty which seems to traverse society, horizontal plane.

- She's being followed, you know.

Why?

- She's a member of a Russian revolutionary organization known as the People's Will.

Therefore she's under surveillance, both by the Russian secret police and our own.

She carries messages, now do you have any other questions?

- Does she have a lover?

- No.

(dramatic music) - This is where I live.

I've only been here six months, but I love it.

Good evening, madame.

- Mademoiselle.

- This is my brother.

- He's very handsome.

- Thank you.

- [Woman] But there's no likeness.

- He's a half-brother.

- Half-brother, half-lover, you remember the old song?

- That's enough, Mary Lou.

(chuckling) You haven't changed.

Not one bit.

I remember it was Easter, there were butterflies.

A great silence hung over the house.

Crucifix appeared on the walls of Mama's bedroom.

Her breasts, so low beneath her shawl.

We queued to see her, kissed her.

There was a smell of holy water, and the priest was there.

And then the next morning we were all summoned into Papa's study, just as you had been when you cut Grisha with a knife.

He told us that Mama was dead.

For the next hour, we went around crying, giving some sort of voice to the sorrow of the grownups.

We waited for you, to come home.

I suppose we were more alarmed by your not coming than we were by Mama's death.

And then we heard that you'd drowned yourself in Odessa.

We were outraged.

You were meant to come home and look after us, show us how to live without her.

After all, you'd loved Mama more than any of us.

So we learned to grow up without you, and without Mama.

Without love.

- I adored Mama.

It was unthinkable that she might die.

I left Vienna at once, and 12 miles from home I was stopped at a road block, and I was arrested and thrown into the castle.

She died while I was there.

A few days later Father turned up and threatened to bring his entire regiment, and so I was released, but he took me own to his own particular brand of court marital.

He was furious, and in his obscene anger, unleashed years of venom and resentment.

I was, it seems, illegitimate, I was not his son.

And what was worse, I was a Jew.

A Jewish bastard.

My real father was Dr. Rosenblum, who oddly enough is the only one of her friends that I actually admired.

Anyway, I told Father what I thought of him, that he was a fraud and a bigot and a bad shot, and it was the last that nearly unhinged him.

That night I escaped to Odessa and from there I left for South America.

I wrote the suicide note to put people off the scent more than anything else.

(children shouting) In the months and years that followed, I experienced a degree of degradation which I would not have thought possible to survive.

My sense of having been betrayed never diminished.

My childhood became more and more like a dream, something I'd imagined.

Until I saw you again.

You know you're being watched.

- It's a feature of my life in Paris.

- All mixed in politics.

- I carry messages from time to time.

It's easy for a student.

- I just told you what happens to couriers, they get 10 years in the castle.

- Does that matter to you?

- Yes.

- A man answering to Darcy's description was seen dining in the restaurant at (speaking foreign language) last night.

He paid his bill in something of a hurry at 10 minutes to 9:00.

The blue train leaves at nine.

- Why would he catch the blue train?

- Fastest overnight connection to the riviera.

The Rothschilds have a yacht near Antibes.

I think the odds that he caught it are short.

So short in fact that I'm classifying this information as grade one and charging you accordingly.

- Mr. Granier?

- Yes?

- Widdemeyer sent me.

- Oh.

Pretty spot, isn't it?

- Your manservant?

- Yes.

Gutier, a glass of wine for Mister?

- Reilly.

- For Mr. Reilly here.

(sighs) I let him paint in the sky.

Skies are so boring, don't you think?

Widdemeyer sent you, you said?

- Yes.

- You're looking for a man called Darcy, and you think he's on Rothschild's yacht.

- Yes, I need you to go down to Antibes to keep it under observation.

Unless of course it puts to sea.

- Mm-mm.

I'm acquainted with the captain.

He seldom leaves port.

And he worries about the effects of salt water on the varnish.

There are acres of it on the Rothschilds' yacht.

Aren't there, Gutier?

By the way, Widdemeyer didn't say, but who are we working for?

- The British.

- And how do they pay?

- By results.

- Ah.

- In return for your services in setting up the Anglo-Persian Oil Company, the British government is prepared to advance the sum of one million pounds to Darcy Exploration on the understanding that all concessions belonging to it will devolve upon the new company.

- Who signed it?

- Churchill, Prettiman, Lord Bridgemont.

- Where's the letter of credit?

We the undersigned to promise to pay the bearer the sum of one million pounds upon the presentation of this note at Glenns Bank, Whitehall, et cetera et cetera.

- Looks good, doesn't it?

- [Reilly] Yes.

- Cummings has come up trumps, hasn't he?

- I want you to meet me in Antibes at the (speaking foreign language) in three days.

And don't lose those papers.

- How are we going to get on the yacht?

- I don't know.

(knocks) - Yes?

- Good evening.

May I leave this here?

- Of course.

- When is your first concert?

- June 13th.

- And what will you play?

- Mozart.

It could be interesting because the French don't believe a Slav can play Mozart.

Between June and September I hope to persuade them otherwise.

Then I go back to Russia.

- And what then?

- Well.

There'll be marriage I suppose.

What about you?

Do you have any intentions of getting married?

- I am married.

- How very odd.

I mean... - I know, it does seem strange, doesn't it?

I was in Paris looking for her and the people I'd employed to find her found you instead.

- Looking for her?

She ran away?

- Yes.

- No suicide note?

- No.

She'd found someone else.

- So why are you chasing her?

- I'm not anymore.

(dog barking) - What a strange occupation, being a spy.

That's what you said you were.

- Yes.

- What are the qualifications?

- Well, you must see life as a bit of a game, and you have to have the ability to manipulate people, I suppose.

Is he still outside?

- Different man.

He might be following you rather than me.

- Yes, it's possible.

I shall be leaving Paris.

- When?

- In the morning.

- Will I ever see you again?

- Yes, of course.

- How can I be sure of that?

That man, he's going to be out there all night?

- Yes.

- Then why don't you stay?

- I was planning to.

- Did Granier get away?

- He left last night.

- See that he's picked up, by the police, I mean.

- As a decoy?

- Yes.

- It's one thing to betray one's principles, it's another to betray one's employees.

We don't operate a double standard over here.

- You will be paid.

- [Widdemeyer] Handsomely, I trust.

- There's one other thing.

As you know, I spent last night with Anna.

I want all reference to this expunged from your files.

- I just hope you know what you're doing.

(barking) (gulls cawing) (bicycle bell rings) - Thank you.

- Oil's up, rubber's up, tin's up.

Gold's down.

- How's the franc doing?

- Not bad.

- Well then today we will sign the contract and then he can go home.

- Good.

(knocking) - [Reilly] Who is it?

- [Widdemeyer] It's me.

- [Reilly] Come in.

- Sidney?

- Well, what do you think?

- It won't work.

- It's my belief that a civilized man would murder his mother before he's rude to a priest.

He may loathe Rome and proclaim himself an atheist, but he'd sooner give up a seat on a tram to a man of god than to a blind woman.

- You're dealing with the Rothschilds, Sidney.

- The very distillation of European chic, my child.

(light music) Good afternoon.

- Good afternoon, Father.

- Is Baron Rothschild aboard?

- [Sailor] Yes Father.

- Then I should like to see him.

- [Sailor] Very good, Father.

(knocking) The priest, your excellency.

- You wish to see me, Father?

- To beg a donation.

- If you would be so good as to see my secretary.

- You see, I am a missionary.

- He is on the bridge.

- My mission is in Tahome, or at least it was until it was burned down.

- I'm sorry to hear that.

One of my men will show you the way.

(ringing bell) - But there are one or two aspects about the situation in Tahome which I thought you could clarify for me.

That is, before I make my report.

You see, I'm on my way to Rome to see the Vicar General.

- I don't quite understand, Father.

- Monsignor Phillipe, late of the Tahome mission, burned down at the instigation of the (speaking foreign language), an organization which I understand you control.

- I have interests in Tahome, Father, whether they include this federation I cannot be sure.

Now you'll see my secretary, he will reimburse you for whatever-- - The sum I am looking for is in the region of one million francs.

The cathedral will have to be reconstructed over the graves of my fellow priests.

- Graves?

- Cut down protecting innocent women and children.

The church will house their relics.

We shall also need a new cemetery for the others, built in the gothic style of course, it goes down well in the jungle.

- Father, I'm unacquainted as to what happened at Tahome, but I would like to assure you that it cannot be laid at my door.

- No, no, of course not.

That is just what I intend to tell the Vicar General in Rome.

The Tahome massacres cannot be laid at the door of the Rothschilds.

- Of course they cannot.

- Then I don't see what we're arguing about, my son, when we both agree.

- Wait here.

Get me a detailed list of our business commitments in Tahome, and the names of ancillary companies which might have been funded by our bank.

- [Sailor] Yes sir.

- [Rothschild] Furthermore, I want a report of what is going on there with specific reference to the recent massacre.

- [Sailor] Yes sir.

- I'm afraid this business will take some time.

Will you stay for dinner?

- I would be very pleased to accept your excellency's most kind invitation.

- Raleigh here will show you a cabin where you may sleep or refresh yourself.

- But I am quite refreshed.

- Nevertheless, you have come a long way.

(suspenseful music) - Excuse me, monsieur.

- Quite right.

(knocking) - Mr. Darcy.

You may find this ridiculous, but, my name is Reilly and I'm an agent of the British government.

I've been sent here at the behest of Admiral Fischer, he wants to break off your negotiations with the Rothschilds, and come to some arrangement with the British banks.

He appeals to your sense of duty.

- Always suspected Fischer of being high church, but this is ridiculous.

Well.

You're too late.

Full marks though, for trying.

- You've come to some arrangement?

- No, but there is no reason to suppose that we shan't later tonight.

So if you value your life, you should leave this ship.

- I'm afraid I can't, you see, I've been invited to dinner.

I've been invited to dinner.

- You mean to say that you're to carry on with this preposterous behavior through dinner?

- Yes, I'm afraid so.

- Well.

If they do tumble you, you must appreciate that my business obligations will prevent me from coming to your assistance.

- That is understood.

But before I go, Mr. Darcy, I would like to confirm that if you are to go to the (speaking foreign language), and ask for a Mr. Fothergill, you would find there a letter of credit from a British bank for one million pounds.

There are also other guarantees-- - Matter's closed, Mr. Reilly.

(bell ringing) - Gentlemen.

Monsieur.

This is Monsignor Phillipe of the Tahome mission.

My friend the Count Dogu, and Mr. Darcy, an English gentleman.

- Australian.

- I beg your pardon.

An Australian gentleman.

- How do you do.

- Monsignor Phillipe has been telling me about the Tahome massacres.

Evidently a number of his brothers have been murdered.

The good monsignor believes that the world will lay it at my door.

- [Man] Rubbish.

- How much did you say the new cathedral is going to cost?

- One million.

- How long do you expect it will take you to collect that?

- Well, if the radio telegraph is as fast as they say, not very long.

- What is wrong?

- Pardon monsieur, but you're wanted in the radio cabin.

(laughing) (machines tapping) - How long will it take to decode?

- Mind you, the rains that we get in Africa are nothing like those one sees in say, parts of the Middle East.

For instance, in a country like Persia-- - You've been to Persia?

- Only once.

I had the privilege of seeing a tributary of the Tigris rise a height of 100 meters in half as many hours.

- That would be the (speaking foreign language).

- Yes, you're quite right.

You are acquainted with the country, Mr. Darcy?

- A little.

- This was before my time in Tahome.

I was writing a treatise on comparative religion, and my studies took me to the temples of Zoroaster, at... (speaking foreign language) Yes.

The temples of Solomon, as they're now called, where the oil comes from.

Incidentally I'm told that there is some attempt being made to exploit this oil commercially.

- That's correct.

- Yes, it really was the most extraordinary sight, you know.

When I first saw those gushes of fire blazing into the night I could quite understand why they were thought of as a manifestation of the divine being.

What the Zoroastrians then called the breath of god.

Are you a believer, Mr. Darcy?

- I believe that there is oil there.

- But not in sufficient quantities to attract investors.

What do you think, Monsieur le Count?

- I'm not an oil expert, monsignor, but I'm prepared to back Darcy all the way.

- Such faith.

Only the French are forward-looking today, don't you agree Darcy?

- That's the first true thing you've said tonight, Father.

- Which makes it even more ironic that the Sha of Persia should set his face so resolutely against France, and progress.

- I don't know, we should be able to deal with the old boy.

- What do you mean, by force?

The same way as the (speaking foreign language) moved against the nationalists in Tahome, because gentlemen, that certainly did not work.

And oil is particularly vulnerable.

Rigs set on fire, pipelines blown up, power supplies cut.

- There's always diplomacy, my dear fellow.

- Yes, that is true.

But you must remember that only two powers have any influence in Persia, the Russians and the English.

Now the Russians are not likely to view a French invasion with any enthusiasm, and as for the English, they will wreck anything that is not in their interest.

- This is the view from Tahome?

- It is surprising what a different perspective one gets in Africa.

- I'm glad you found the time to visit me, monsignor, it spurred me into making some inquiries into our African operations.

Now, I regret to say that whoever was the source of your information has done us both a disservice.

No Rothschild subsidiary has been active in the republic for some years.

And certainly not in the (speaking foreign language).

Meanwhile, my subordinates, in their usual overzealous manner, have checked the list of the missionary fathers, and your name is not on it.

You are an imposter, monsieur.

- What can I say, Baron?

- [Darcy] Who's Prettiman?

- [Fothergill] He's chairman of the oil committee.

- [Darcy] Who are the oil committee?

- Fischer, Churchill, and a few other bright sparks, also Bridgemont of Burma Oil.

- Burma Oil?

They're solid.

What do I tell Rothschild?

- That you're going to London to talk to the British admiralty.

I don't see why it shouldn't come out in the open.

It'll force Fischer's hand, he will have to deliver, or watch the French step in.

- You're sure I'm that popular?

- Yes I am.

- Very well.

I'll go.

- Good.

Fothergill will escort you, won't you Fothergill?

- Absolutely.

- Well, I'm glad we finally caught up with you, I've been chasing you since Naples.

- Well, now that you have caught up with me, I hope you're satisfied.

- What made you change your mind?

- I calculated the length of the pipelines.

1000 miles.

Unprotected.

An the number of pumping stations, 50, equally unprotected.

And then I thought what a bastard Fischer could be if he couldn't get his way.

- I think you are very wise.

Good luck, old boy.

(grunts) - Well done.

Padre.

- I'll see you back in London.

(phone ringing) - Hello?

- Widdemeyer here.

- The news is good.

We've got Darcy.

- Anna's dead, she killed herself.

Threw herself out of her window.

Coming back to Paris?

- Yes.

- May I offer my sincerest condolences.

- Dearest Sigmund, I preferred it the way it was with you under the ice, safe, and dead.

To know that you exist in the same world as I do, breathe the same air, walk the same streets, for some reason I find that intolerable.

They say that a man cannot be hanged twice for the same crime.

By the same token, why should a woman be asked to die twice for the same love?

And yet I find that's what I'm doing.

I don't understand.

It's an extraordinary thing, Sigmund.

I never loved anyone else.

(gentle music) (upbeat music)